Genesis Revisited
by TheDeadlyColera
Summary: Bound by a curse, damned to suffer for eternity as... roommates? Huh?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

"Woman."

She ignored him, pretending to be asleep. This was NOT happening…

No sooner had she lain down and curled up beneath her comforter than he had come barging in, unannounced, as rude and unapologetic as ever. Honestly, didn't the man have ANY compassion? After the day she'd had, she certainly deserved some. But it seemed it wouldn't be coming from _him_… She mentally spat the last word, as if it were some kind of vile curse. She felt like death warmed over, and was most certainly not in the mood to deal with the fool's shenanigans.

"Woman," he said again, louder this time. God, how his voice grated on her nerves. Even if she lived for an eternity, she sincerely doubted she would find anything in all of existence that could piss her off anywhere near as much. Just the sound of it made her want to claw his eyes out. Of course, if she told him that, he'd probably take it as a compliment. Yes, he'd be far too pleased with himself if he knew he could get under her skin so easily. Besides, at the moment she was just too exhausted to retaliate. So she lay there, hoping he'd believe she was just a heavy sleeper and that he'd give up and leave her the hell alone.

Unfortunately for her, the man she was dealing with was no quitter. "Damn it, you stupid female, I will NOT be ignored! Get up now, or so help me, I'll – "

"You'll what, jerk?" she asked finally, giving up her farce and rolling over to face him. "Kill me? Fine. At least then I'd be able to get some freaking rest. Christ, what's a girl gotta do for some peace and quiet around here?" she groaned.

He eyed her for a moment, his expression impenetrable, those pitch-black eyes of his giving nothing away. This human… she made no sense. She ought to fear him. She ought to know her place. She ought to be bowing and scraping at his feet, begging him to allow her to serve him in whatever way he desired. Instead she just lay there, wrapped in her sheets, looking for all the world like she truly couldn't care less that it was only by a twist of fate that she continued to live.

Great, now he was staring at her! "What the hell do you WANT, asshole?" she growled. "If it's just a look at me in my jam-jams, then take a freaking picture and get OUT!"

He let that last comment pass, knowing full well they could argue like this for hours. Normally he enjoyed their sport. She… _amused_ him. However, at the moment, he would prefer to get to the crux of the problem rather than waste time on trivial matters. "I feel unwell, woman. What have you done?"

"What are you talking about? I haven't done ANYTHING! Now piss off, and let me get some sleep." She rolled back onto her side, pulling the sheets over her head as she did so.

"Liar. It's been like this all day! And there isn't anything wrong with me, therefore the cause must lie with you, human."

When no reply was forthcoming, he crossed from the doorway to her king-sized bed and tore the bedclothes from her. She shot bolt upright, shocked at his audacity, only to nearly bash foreheads with the brute looming over her. For a moment she was too stunned by his proximity even to think, let alone speak. It was all she could do to keep her sanity intact while those obsidian orbs bore into her very core, the way they always did.

What the hell was he DOING? He NEVER got this close to her. Not on purpose, anyway. It only amplified the curse. That very truth was evidenced at the moment by their sudden simultaneous sneeze.

"AH-AHH-ACHOOOO!"

This seemed only to further enrage the demon. "There it is again! What in hell is going on here?"

The small woman sniffled quietly, trying to relieve the tingling sensation in her nose. "It's called a sneeze, you idiot. It happens when you have a cold."

"And what, pray tell, is this cold thing? I do not feel cold at all. In fact, it is unbearably hot in here!"

"That's from the fever! It's my body trying to fight off the invading germs!" she ground out.

He looked at her like she was speaking a foreign language. Then again, he knew all the languages of Man. Of course, that didn't mean he was up-to-date on their scientific foolishness. He was still having troubles with that thing the wench called a "mi-cro-wave". In his day, there had been no such thing. Hell, in his day, there had barely even been humans at all, let alone their inane inventions.

Coming back to the argument at hand, however, he hissed, "What does that mean, human?"

Finally dropping all pretense at civility, Bulma screeched, "It fucking means I'm ill, you godforsaken, worthless, imbecilic demon!" This outburst brought on a coughing fit that had the both of them gasping for air minutes later.

He was glaring at her now, the full force of his wrath barely reigned in. This filthy little mud-monkey… How DARE she speak to him in such a manner? Wasn't it enough that he was forced to suffer through all her mortal weaknesses? He couldn't even hit her. That would just be like punching himself in the face. What had he done to deserve such a detestable fate? Sure, he was EVIL, but this… this was BEYOND Hell. The woman was a realm of torment all her own. Still, she was a fighter, this one. He almost admired her for her spirit. Not that he would ever admit to it.

"Well, get yourself to a healer, woman. I won't stand for this a moment longer than strictly necessary." With that, he stalked out of the room, mumbling something about filthy disease-ridden creatures, slamming the door behind him.

Why, that arrogant bastard! she roared inwardly. First this cold, then everything at work, and now THIS! But at least he was gone, now. Sighing, she retrieved her mangled sheets from the floor and slipped between them once more. She'd curse him to Hell… if he hadn't already been damned eons ago….


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

He had been staying with her for over 5 months, now, and they had fallen into a routine of sorts. At roughly eight in the morning, she would wake up and head downstairs to find him pacing the kitchen like a caged animal. They would bicker while she made them both breakfast. And then she would head off to work for the next 10 hours. He had no idea what this "job" of hers was, nor did it matter, so long as it allowed her to provide him with sustenance. She never knew exactly what he did while she was away, but since the house was always in the exact state she'd left it in, she didn't much care.

When she returned home, they would fight while she made dinner, then glare at each other across the table while they ate. For some reason, she always demanded that they eat together. It was some sort of human tradition, he gathered. He obliged her only because it was more convenient to have her in the immediate vicinity to serve him, as opposed to him having to seek her out when he wanted seconds… or thirds… or fifths. He didn't really need to eat, but… well, being the embodiment of the Seven Deadlies, he felt the need to include gluttony in his repertoire.

Once dinner was over, he would go off to brood somewhere while she cleaned up and got ready for bed. And the next day, the cycle would begin again.

The morning after the incident in her bedroom, however, did not adhere to the schedule. When she had yet to show herself at 8:17, he knew it had to be for one of two reasons:

Either she was purposely refusing to cook his morning meal as punishment for his invasion of her bedroom the previous night, or… something was wrong with her.

Judging by the wooziness, aching muscles, and "fever" (was that what she had called it?) the curse was currently forcing him to share with her, he assumed it was the latter. He certainly hoped she wasn't dying or anything. That would not bode well for him.

_Blasted mortal!_ _You were well enough to be insolent with me last night._ He glared at the stairwell, still expecting her to come bouncing down it at any moment, completely oblivious to his anger.

When by 8:24 she had not done so, he decided enough was enough. _The Lord of Darkness waits for no mere mortal! _he roared internally, conveniently ignoring the fact that he had been doing so for nearly half an hour already.

With that he swept up the stairs and down the hallway toward the woman's sleeping chamber. However, he was only halfway down the hall before a wave of dizziness overtook him, and he was forced to pause and double over, panting with exhaustion.

_This feeling…! Hellfire, the woman IS dying, after all!_ This could not be allowed. The woman's death was nothing. He, however, the almighty Prince of the Underworld, who had defeated countless enemies, would NOT be ended by some pathetic human "cold". It was a shame not to be borne.

With this in mind, he gathered his considerable strength and forced his weary legs to move to the door at the end of the hall, his stamina decreasing with every step.

The sounds of her ragged breathing echoed through the room. She lay sleeping in a crumpled heap on the bed. Her mass of blue hair was a tangled mess clinging to her sweat-drenched face. She was pale as a corpse. Violet circles ringed her eyes. Every few seconds she would gasp and let out a wheezing cough.

He was shocked she was able to breathe at all. The pain in his head and chest were horrible, now that he was in the same room as her. He found himself bent double, hacking and choking on some kind of fluid that had suddenly filled his lungs. Grunting, he forced his breathing to return to normal and walked slowly over to the woman.

_Damn_, it was worse than he'd thought. The girl looked like she had the plague. And he had no idea what he was supposed to do about it. He would have to wake her and get some answers.

"Wake up, woman," he wheezed.

…No response.

"Woman?"

Still nothing.

He was getting worried now. Not for the woman, oh, _never_ that! But if he couldn't wake her up, he didn't know how to fix whatever was wrong with her. And if he couldn't fix it, he was going to have to endure this misery right along with her.

"WOMAN! GET UP, BEFORE I AM FORCED TO DO SOMETHING DRASTIC!" he bellowed, coming even closer to her prone form. She didn't even flinch at the sound.

That was it. He was going to have to shake her. Which meant… he was going to have to TOUCH her. Which meant he was going feel the full force of whatever she was feeling. And he REALLY didn't want to do that. But there appeared to be no way around it.

Besides, her stillness was unnatural. Seeing her like that filled him with a strange emotion. Emotions of any kind for him were few and far between. But this feeling was altogether foreign to him, and he couldn't place it in any of the normal categories: rage, disgust, hatred, etc. This woman, normally so full of vim and vigor, so much life… to be reduced to this…. There was something inherently WRONG about it.

Shaking his head at his own foolishness, he pushed these thoughts aside. She was nothing to him, except a burden. He was being ridiculous.

Sucking in as deep a breath as his struggling lungs would allow him, he reached down and grasped the woman by the shoulder and shook.

The initial contact brought with it a drowsiness that had his mind in a haze, and an increase in all the previous symptoms. How the hell was she NOT dead yet? This was by far the worst he had ever felt in all his long life. He resisted the urge to jerk his hand back and shook her again.

This time she moved, pulling a shaky hand over her face with a groan. "Huh…?"

He had to stifle a sigh of relief. "So, you're not dead, after all."

"Vegeta?" she asked, blinking up at him.

"Who the hell else, woman?" Perhaps the fever was affecting her brain.

"What's wrong? You look awful."

"Well, if I do, then it's your fault. This cold of yours is even worse than before. Get up and fix it NOW!"

She pulled herself up into a sitting position, just as she realized his hand was still on her shoulder. Her BARE shoulder. She was wearing nothing more than a camisole and a pair of silk shorts. She blushed in embarrassment and stared down at his large, calloused hand. He seemed to have forgotten it was there. This wasn't the first time they had touched, but it had always been accidental before. This was clearly deliberate contact_. Calm down, Bulma. He was just trying to wake you up, that's all. But then… why isn't he moving it?_

"Woman, did you not hear me? Get up and fix this. I don't care how you do it, just get rid of this blasted cold!"

Well, THIS she knew how to deal with. "There's nothing I can do about it! I'm sick, idiot! It just has to run its course."

He looked at her skeptically. "And how long will THAT take, precisely?"

"I don't know, a few days, probably."

_Days?_ "Unacceptable! I refuse to allow it! You'd better get up off your lazy mortal ass this instant-" he roared, before being overtaken by a loud (and rather wet) sneeze.

He looked so comical, standing there rubbing his runny nose with a corner of his sleeve, with a glare that could cut through diamond. Like a really big, evil toddler… She would have giggled at the thought if she wasn't feeling so terrible. Instead, she said, "Ok, look. I can take some medication to tone down the symptoms, but that's about it. Believe me, I'm not any happier about this than you are. But there is no cure for the common cold. So we don't really have much choice other than to suffer through it for a couple days. And honestly, it's not even all that bad of a cold. We're lucky it's not the stomach flu."

He blinked at her, disbelief and shock stamped all over his face. "Not that bad? You mean there's something WORSE than THIS?" He was utterly horrified at the thought. Perhaps these humans were stronger than he'd thought….

"Well, duh! If everyone died whenever they caught a cold, the human race would've been wiped out long ago," she sniffled.

"Perhaps I'll wipe them out right now, and put them out of this misery!" He'd be doing them a favor.

"Tch! Whatever, just leave me alone so I can get dressed and go to the store to pick up some cold medicine." She paused for a moment, seeming to remember something. "Hey, Vegeta... what time is it?"

"Woman, do I look like your personal clock?" he asked sardonically. When she merely eyed him, he decided to just tell her and be done with it already. It wasn't worth the hassle of remaining this close to her for so long. "It's after 8:30."

"WHAT? Holy piss, I'm so late!" With that, she flew into a flurry, tossing the covers off her and bounding to her dresser. Once there she proceeded to rip drawers out and fling garments all about her. The Prince of Hell had seen a LOT of strange things in his time, but this human... she really took the cake.

"What are you doing NOW, woman?"

"Making sweet love to your mother!" she sceeched. "What the fuck does it look like I'm doing?"

His frowned deepened. "I don't have a mother..." he grumbled, quiet enough that she shouldn't have been able to hear it. But she had. She suddenly looked up at him, an unfathomable sorrow in her deep blue eyes. He could feel the tight pain in her chest. What the hell...? Why is she looking at me like that?

Bulma got up off the floor, dropping a pair of jeans into one of the piles she'd created. For a moment she did nothing but stand there, staring at him with a pained expression. And then slowly, tentatively, she reached out and placed her palm against his cheek. "Oh, Vegeta... I didn't know. I'm sorry... I shouldn't have said that to you."

He was so baffled by her behavior that he couldn't think, let alone move. She was TOUCHING him... purposely touching him. Normally she recoiled at the thought of contact with him of any kind. He could always feel it in her thoughts. But now, she stood before him, apologizing for her offhand comment, and offering him...comfort? The idea of the most powerful demon in the Underworld accepting comfort from a filthy human was laughable. He needed nothing from her, especially her pathetic pity. It was insulting, to say the least. He should slap her hand away and leave.

...But for some odd reason, he couldn't pull away from her warm hand...

She could feel the torrent of emotions coursing through him. There were pain and anger, those he understood. It was the strange warm feeling flooding through him that boggled his mind. She knew it was unfamiliar to him. He was so confused by what she was doing. Truth be told, so was she. After all, she hated his guts, right? But she knew that wasn't true. Sure he made her life a living Hell. But for some reason she'd never been able to bring herself to really hate him. Perhaps it was because of the strange kinship she felt for him. They were both so alike...

They stayed like that for a few long minutes, neither moving nor looking away. He hadn't realized how much he actually WANTED to touch her, until he found his hand on hers as it caressed his cheek. Her skin was soft and smooth, so cool against his permanently heated flesh.

…_Wait, wha-? Since when did I want to dirty my hands on refuse like her?_ he wondered. Although, come to think of it, she was kind of pretty… _Gasp! No-no-no-no-no-no-NO! I did NOT just think the word '_pretty'_! Must be that damn curse, messing with my mind, what with her touching me. Enough of this nonsense!_

Slapping her hand away, he snarled, "Don't you have some place to be?" and promptly stormed out of the room.

Bulma watched him go, feeling strangely hurt by his callousness. _Bah! He's always like that, idiot. You should know by now not to take it personally… _ Still, she couldn't help but wonder if perhaps there was more to the man...erm, demon… than she thought. _For a moment there, he seemed almost… sad._

She stood, mulling over this for a few minutes before deciding it wasn't her problem. _ Not like the jerk is ever concerned about me!_

With that, she dressed and headed off to work, _conveniently_ forgetting Vegeta's breakfast.

* * *

A/N: Not to worry, their histories will be revealed as time goes on. The whole curse thing will be explained as well.

Right-o! R&R, please! 3


	3. Chapter 3

**Heeeey… I realize I haven't posted in quite some time. I don't have a very good excuse, so I'll just apologize for those of you who still care enough to read on. So… ON WITH THE STORY! ;D**

_~She was running, choking on the thick, sulfurous smoke as she tried to make her way to… something. What was it she had been chasing after? She couldn't remember now. Not that it mattered. In the back of her mind she knew she would never catch up to it. Flames licked at her legs as she ran, but she didn't fear the pain. In fact, she reveled in it. It kept the despair at bay…~_

"B, wake up. B… **B!**"

Bulma woke with a start. _Damned Nyquil, giving me weird dreams again… Although, with the amount that I poured down my throat, it's a wonder I'm not on some kind of acid trip right about now,_ she thought blearily.

Realizing she'd been shaken awake for the second time that day, the blue-haired woman looked up into the concerned face of her co-worker, Chi-Chi. "You okay there, B? You're kinda drooling on that circuit board."

Looking down at her desk, Bulma realized she had, in fact, left quite a large puddle on her work bench. Not only that, but there was a red-hot soldering iron about five inches from where her face had been. _I have __**got**__ to be more careful where I nap…_

After assuring Chi-Chi that she was fine, just a little tired, Bulma dove back into work with fervor. She had a quota to meet. Failure to do so would result in a drastic pay cut, which was something she could absolutely not afford at the moment. Feeding that bastard demon was a real strain on her finances.

At the thought of Vegeta's immature behavior from that morning, Bulma growled and stabbed her desk with the soldering iron, burninging a neat little hole in the cheap wood. _That complete and utter __**asshole!**__ Where does he get off, snapping at me like that when all I was trying to do was be nice to him for once? I don't care if he __**doesn't**__ have a mother. There's no excuse for behavior like that._

Suddenly, she felt a pair of hands inexpertly massaging her shoulders. "Hey, babe. You're so **tense**. What's got you all worked up, huh?"

She rolled her eyes and silently prayed to whatever deity was listening for the patience to deal with her pathetic man-whore of a boss.

As usual, her prayers remained unanswered.

"Hands **off**, Yamcha! This is sexual harassment, and if you don't bugger off this very instant, I'll slap you with a lawsuit so fast, your lawyers won't know what hit 'em," she hissed, narrowed eyes still focused on her work.

Yamcha merely chuckled, waving his hands in front of himself defensively. "Now, now, babe. No need to be so frigid. Tell you what." He leaned forward to whisper in her ear in what she was certain he thought was a seductive manner. It came off more smarmy than anything else. "How's about I take you out for a night on the town. Dinner by candlelight, mood music, a bouquet of red roses… all that romantic crap you girls go ape-shit for." He waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively.

Finally turning toward him, she opened her mouth to let loose with a scathing comeback, when a sneeze of titanic proportions expelled itself without warning, causing her to spray the man in front of her with a mixture of saliva and mucus.

He blinked once. Twice. Three times. Then, he released a high pitched squeal before rushing off to the bathroom, likely in some sad attempt to save what he probably considered to be his "good suit". And it probably was. At least this one wasn't yellow.

_Saved by the sneeze,_ Bulma thought, turning back to her desk.

That afternoon she slid out of the car ungracefully and slouched to her front door where she fumbled unsteadily with key and lock. After wrestling with it for a few moments (and showering it with a few choice phrases), she finally got it open and stumbled out into the hall. Unfortunately her groggy mind wasn't quite up to the task of registering the rather large and solid object positioned directly inside the doorway, resulting in a head-on collision with an exceedingly peeved demon.

"Get off me, mud-monkey! Cease this attempt at sullying my royal person with your unworthy self!" he bellowed, shoving her away. His eyes were blazing, his hands trembling—_cripes,_ he was practically foaming at the mouth!

_Who the fuck stole __**his**__ pitchfork? _Bulma wondered nervously. Putting on her best "you don't scare me, mister" face, she bellowed right back, "Fuck off, imp-butt! If anyone should be offended, it's **me!** It's **your** filthy sinful presence that's tainting my pure immortal soul! I have half a mind to kick your ass out on the street after the way you've been treating me!" With an indignant *humph*, she flounced down the stairs, leaving a quaking ball of enraged prince in her wake.

Vegeta watched her walk away through a red haze. At that moment, he wanted nothing so much as the ability to reach forward, snap her neck, light her corpse on fire, and dance around the flames. But he couldn't very well do that, now **could** he? _Blasted curse… blasted __**woman**__... blasted fucking __**NYQUIL!**__ Why couldn't it have knocked her out for the rest of her life?_

Downstairs in the kitchen, Bulma was attempting to shake the last bit of coffee grounds loose from the container. Giving up, she grabbed a fresh can out of the cabinet and started the percolator. She made a mental note to go to the store soon. As the delicious aroma of the hot beverage filled her nostrils, she let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She'd more than half expected Vegeta to storm in after her and scream his head off at her (at best) or put her face through a wall (at worst). The peace was unexpected, but a relief nonetheless. _Maybe today's my lucky day…_

"WOOOOOMAAAAAAAAAAAANNNN!"

…_or not…_

She sighed. She was too tired for this.

"Yes, Vegeta, what is it?" she asked quietly, head hung low as she leaned against the countertop.

Pausing in his explosive rant, Vegeta took in the human's defeated stance and sullen tone, the bubble of righteous indignation in his chest deflating almost instantly. **Now **what was wrong with her? _Humans and their infernal mood swings. _No matter. The woman and her wretched emotions were not his concern. He had more important affairs to consider, namely—

"Woman, I'm hungry. I demand you prepare my evening meal this instant!" he commanded.

She stared blankly at him for a few moments before oh-so-eloquently asking. "Huh?"

"Grrrr…. You heard me, you idiotic female! This is the second day in a row I've been denied sustenance, and it's put me in a foul mood. If you know what's good for you, you'll do as I say immediately, before I get nasty." With that, he took a seat at the table, reclining upon it as if it were a throne, a hand on each armrest, and fixing her with a glare that had been known to melt flesh right off of bone.

"What? That's all? You just want dinner?" she asked, momentarily stunned. But she quickly regained enough presence of mind to work up a good rage of her own. "You dirty little sonofabitch! You're throwing a temper tantrum at me for having been too sick to wait on your sorry ass hand and foot for the last two days! And to think, I almost felt **bad** for you this morning!" She hefted the empty coffee can directly at his head, followed in quick succession by an oven mitt, a fork, and a stray pudding cup, each of which he dodged with something akin to amusement.

Suddenly he was inches away, smirking down at her, and she stilled her tirade, startled. He reached for the toaster she'd been about to heft at him and, with deceptive gentleness, pulled it out of her hands and set it behind her on the counter. His eyes never left hers as he pressed her up against the edge of the counter with his own body, not bothering to analyze the strange tingling sensation radiating from where their chests brushed ever so slightly. From this distance, he could make out the flecks of indigo in her wide, sky-blue eyes. He could smell the scent of her shampoo. He could hear the slightly off-kilter beating of her heart. Her apparent nervousness at the situation encouraged him, and he reached up to grasp her chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look up at him.

"You know, human," he practically purred, "if you put half as much effort into making my meal as you just put into your pathetic attempt at injuring me, I'd already be eating."

Heart fluttering strangely, Bulma replied in a somewhat breathy tone, "And if you put a hundredth of the effort you use trying to enrage me to the point of madness into making your own meals, we could _both_ be having a seven course meal right about now."

And with that, she ducked under his arm and grabbed the kitchen phone off its hook on the far wall. "But since you just can't seem to help yourself from being a complete and utter _ass_, I suppose we'll just have to settle for pizza."

After ordering 6 large pepperonis, she replaced the phone in its cradle and turned back to look at Vegeta. He was leaning up against the counter, arms crossed, omnipresent smirk still in place. The look in his eyes as he stared at her was unfamiliar, however. If she had to categorize it, it might be somewhere between confusion and annoyance.

"W-what?" she asked, hating that she'd stuttered.

He was silent for a few moments more before shaking his head, as if to clear his thoughts. "Just wondering if all humans were as bizarrely moody as you."

"Oh, look who's talking, Mr. Behave-yourself-woman-before-I-get-nasty. You switch from crazed anger to laughing at my expense so fast it's enough to make my head spin."

His smirk deepened into what might be considered an actual smile on any face but his. "Good to know I have such an effect on you, woman."

Bulma let out an unladylike snort and waved her hand dismissively as she turned to walk down the hall toward the bathroom. "Yeah, right. Pizza should be here in half an hour. Until then, I am going to enjoy a nice soak in the tub. Try not to burn the house down, would ya?"

If she had turned around, she might have seen the smile still gracing the Prince's face.


	4. Chapter 4

_The girl sat by a crystal-clear stream, absently nudging a floating leaf with her toe. The sun was hot on her naked skin, and she was grateful for the cool water. She sighed heavily, tilting her head backwards to gaze at the sun-dappled canopy of trees above. Yes, God had done a marvelous job making the Earth beautiful. Now, if only he could make it INTERESTING! Was this really all there was? A girl could only take so much peaceful scenery before she lost her marbles. She had absolutely nothing to do. That jerk-off of a man wouldn't even let her help name all the animals, always asking her to make him a sandwich… whatever THAT was._

_What she wouldn't give for a little excitement. Sure, blissful peace was nice and all… but what was the POINT?! Where was the CHALLENGE?! Where was the MEANING?! Surely the omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent, omni-whatever-else Lord would have something more in store? Although, apart from the one message he'd left them, they hadn't heard a peep from the deity… nor had they ever actually MET the guy, making it a bit difficult to form any kind of opinion about Him. Call her crazy, but she'd prefer Him to take a more fatherly, hands-on approach to this whole "creation" thing. You know, a little freaking GUIDANCE would be nice! Is that too much to ask? But noooooo…. All they got was a quick message delivered by one of His winged lackeys, saying, "Be good- pass it on," before the little chicken had flown back to his coop. To which the woman had replied ever so eloquently: "What in hell?!"_

_And so the days passed, each much the same as the last. The man's time was taken up, for the most part, by his little "name-the-f**k-out-of-everything" hobby (seriously, that boy was OBSESSED!), and she took to wandering the Garden, making sure never to venture past its safe boundaries. She had been gifted with very little knowledge of the World upon her creation, but there were three rules that she knew were to be respected, unequivocally:_

_1. You don't leave the Garden, under any circumstances. The World outside was, as of yet, uncharted territory, and danger lurked behind every rock and tree._

_2. Speaking of trees, the Tree in the middle of the Garden was OFF LIMITS. Meaning: DON'T TOUCH IT! Don't think about touching it, don't sing about touching it, don't think about singing about touching it! Just DON'T TOUCH IT!**_

_3. In the absence of direct orders from God, or his Heavenly Host, you do whatever Adam says. (She figured this had some kind of "he's oldest, so he's the boss while I'm gone" mentality.)_

_Another absolute truth that she had learned in her short life: She was a rule breaker; a button pusher (well, she would've been if buttons had existed yet). She had… issues with authority. Why God had brought her into being as a teenager was beyond her comprehension. She was one of only two (and thus far, only) humans, and even SHE knew teenagers were rebellious. Especially bored teenagers. So, what she did next really shouldn't have come as much of a shock…._

_Yep… a little trek into the Outside sounded miiiighty thrilling right about now. Mutinous decision made, the girl skipped merrily toward the outskirts of the Garden._

_Little did she know, a pair of onyx eyes were following her from the shadows as she made for the tree line…_

* * *

**I know, I know, it's a short chapter, but believe me, it's important. Also, a special apology to Cara2012. I know I said I'd have this up much MUCH sooner, but money's tight for a starving student, and I haven't had any internet for some time. Please forgive me my transgressions! D;**

**On a lighter note, I have the week off, so I've got loads of time to work on this story... and then some. :D**

****Yes, that was indeed a reference to Walk The Line. Kudos to those of you that caught it!**


	5. Chapter 5

Vegeta scowled into the darkened room, deep in thought, only distantly registering the soft snores of the woman in the bed. He slouched against the doorjamb, eyes focused on the lump beneath the rumpled bedclothes. It had been two weeks since he and Bulma had enjoyed the human delicacy known as "pizza," and since that time the little female's behavior had become decidedly more unpredictable. She would be raving at him for some slight she imagined he had committed against her one moment, and the next she would be quietly introspective, staring off into nothingness. These moments of silence had become more frequent in the last few days. The prince's curiosity was piqued, however he refrained from asking outright what the woman's problem was. It wouldn't do to have her think he was interested in her wellbeing.

He sneered at the thought. The truth was, he had been considering her…_feelings_… more and more since their bout with the dreaded cold. Not solely for her sake, of course. Naturally, these things only concerned him as indirect stimuli to his own mood. It was easier to ignore the random thoughts and emotions floating through him when he was aware what was causing them in her. Loudmouthed and impudent as she was, at least he was beginning to understand the reasoning behind her seemingly illogical moodswings. Her mind was like an intricate puzzle, and a part of him was only too ready to try and solve it. Frustratingly enough, though, whenever he believed he was making some kind of headway in figuring her out, she would do something completely unpredictable. Occasionally, he would catch her watching him closely, her eyes slightly out of focus, and a soft smile on her lips.

Vegeta shook his head disgustedly. _Crazy woman, where does she get off smiling at me?_

He did not care about her. He was just using her. She was, after all, essentially the only thing tethering him to this world. And he supposed he could have been bound to worse. She was considerably intelligent for a human woman, even if she _did_ act like a complete moron the majority of the time. And, until such time as they could find a way to undo the spell that bound them to one another, he was stuck with her. So, he would make the most of it. He would make himself at home in her house, she would feed him, and provide him with mild entertainment. In exchange, when all of this was over she would get to keep her pathetic life and, as a show of his infinite generosity, he would refrain from razing her pitiable world to the ground.

Deciding he'd spent more than enough time on this train of thought for the night, the prince turned on his heel and made to close the door. Just as he was pulling it closed, the woman made a strange humming noise and shifted in her sleep. He paused, thinking perhaps she had woken, and his mind raced to come up with a plausible excuse for his presence in her doorway. But when she made no further movement or sound, he let out a silent sigh of relief, closed the door, and headed down the hall to catch up on some Sloth.

Had he stood there but a moment longer, he would have heard the muffled whisper of his name.

* * *

Bulma woke the next day feeling less than refreshed. Thank goodness it was Saturday. She had made certain that she had nowhere to be, and nothing to do all day, and she intended to spend the next few hours treating herself to some much needed relaxation. She'd been overworking herself lately. Or, more accurately, the people in her life had been overworking her. Yamcha had been piling on the responsibilities at work, and asking her to keep longer hours. And Vegeta had been more demanding than ever. It probably had something to do with the fact that they were coming up on their six month "anniversary," so to speak. Six _long_ months, and they were no closer to breaking the spell that bound them than they had been at the start.

She sighed, heading downstairs to start a pot of coffee. _Maybe I should take some of my vacation time and do some research…._

Vegeta was seated at the kitchen table, arms crossed over his chest and scowl firmly in place. He watched as the human wordlessly measured out the coffee grounds and started up the percolator before mixing pancake batter. She barely acknowledged his presence when she set a huge steaming stack in front of him before seating herself across from him. He watched her out of the corner of his eye while he dug into his breakfast with relish. She was in one of her quiet moods again, he noted.

Still deep in thought, Bulma didn't notice when the prince's ravenous inhalation of the food slowed to a crawl. Nor did she hear him clear his throat. Only when he flicked a small hunk of pancake at her, smacking her square in the nose, did she take notice of him.

She narrowed her eyes at him before wiping her face with a napkin and practically snarling, "_WHAT?!"_

Vegeta rolled his eyes. "I require seconds, worm," he demanded.

"Oh, it's _worm_ now, is it? Whatever did I do to get myself demoted from _woman?" _she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

The demon made no reply. Instead he merely pushed his empty plate toward the woman, who snatched it up angrily and stomped over to the counter to refill it. She then slammed the plate back down on the table and stood next to him, crossing her arms and tapping one foot. When his only response was to devour an entire pancake whole, she made a low growling noise in the back of her throat.

"Can I help you with something?" Vegeta asked around a mouthful.

"Oh, gee, I dunno. How about a 'thank you, Bulma, so kind of you to _wait on me hand and foot like a damned slave_.'"

Vegeta paused and looked up at her. "Alright, woman. Thank you."

Bulma blinked at him, somewhat startled. "W-what?!"

"Ah, I see I need to clarify. Thank you for this pile of mediocre slop not fit even to be called cattle feed, pathetic slave woman," he smirked. With that, he quickly polished off the remainder of his food, stood, gave a little mocking bow, and swaggered down the hall to the sitting room.

The woman glared after his retreating form, her mind whirring angrily. Then she smirked deviously and made a beeline for the circuit breaker beside the stove. She opened it, flipped the desired switch, closed it up again, and waited. Ten seconds later, Vegeta's form reemerged in the kitchen doorway.

"Woman! The blasted noise and picture box it broken. I demand you fix it, at once!"

Bulma snorted, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Oh, you mean the TV? And what do I get if I fix it for you, your highness?"

Vegeta scoffed. "You get to keep your life, human."

She shook her head derisively. "Oh, no no no. I already get to keep that, as long as our little… _arrangement…_ remains intact. Try again."

He stared.

"As a matter of fact," she continued, "I've got a _number_ of conditions that you'll have to meet. The first of which being that you have to tell me I am, in fact, the most intelligent, gorgeous, absolutely delightful creature you've ever laid eyes on."

"WHAT?! Nonsense! I'll say no such thing, fool!"

"Secondly," she went on as if she hadn't heard him, "you have to agree not to bother me for any reason whatsoever for the rest of the day. And that includes sating your ridiculous appetite. You can fend for yourself for lunch and dinner."

"Now see here, wom-!"

"And finally, this evening you will tell me once and for all everything that you know about this curse. No more stalling."

"Just who do you think you are, to be making such demands of me? _Me! The crown prince of the underworld!"_

She smiled a Cheshire cat grin. "I am she who holds the key to the noise and picture box. Without me, you won't be able to catch the latest episodes of General Hospital and All My Children."

He gasped, horrified that she knew about his rather embarrassing guilty pleasure. He couldn't help it that the programs were so addicting. They were so overwrought, it was like watching an emotional train wreck. Vegeta liked train wrecks.

"So be it, then," he sighed. "I shall agree to your second and third terms, woman. However, there is not a chance in Heaven, in Hell, or on Earth that I will _ever_ agree to the first."

"You drive a hard bargain, your highness, but I think I can live with that." She held out her right hand. "It's a deal." When he only stared at her hand, she added, "You shake it to seal the deal. Duh."

"Oh, very well." He grabbed her wrist between thumb and forefinger and wiggled her hand back and forth a few times. "Strange human customs," he mumbled, "make no sense."

"That's, uh… not exactly what I meant…"

"Whatever, human. Enough of this ridiculousness. Just fix the damn device and get out of my hair!"

"Okay, okay. Go back in the sitting room, I'll be right behind you."

"You had better be, woman." And he stormed off down the hall once again.

_Oh, Bulma, you mad genius, you, _she thought to herself as she flipped the power switch back to its original position. She then followed Vegeta into the sitting room and stood in front of the television, stretched her arm out, and shouted, "_Abracadabra!" _and pressed the power button.

Vegeta gaped at her from his position on the couch, mouth hanging wide in astonishment. Then he smirked. "You vile woman, you've been holding out on me! I _knew_ you had to be some kind of witch."

"Oh, yes. I am a master of the two best kinds of magic, Vegeta," she replied.

"Pray tell, female, what might those be?"

She grinned from ear to ear. "Electricity and deception." So, with her day of peace secured, she flounced upstairs to run a nice hot bubble bath.

* * *

_Here it it, ladies and gentlemen. The newest installment. Posting a bit later than I really wanted to, but what can ya do? Well, the next chapter is going to be really exciting. Three guesses as to what it's about... ;)_

_Special thanks to those who reviewed last time! 3_

_You guys rock my socks!_


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